my father never taught me how to love
by Canadino
Summary: In short, Akashi Masahi is sent to the hospital with a fractured hip, and sons are nothing if not dutiful. AkaMido


If he had lingered, he would have missed the chance and it would have gone to someone else - so maybe fate had this in mind. Midorima received the case the moment he left the bathroom, wiping his hands. He had contemplated spending some time wrapping his fingers again and chose against it - his horoscope said he could afford to be a little lax - and the nurse rushed to fetch him as he stepped one foot in the hall. "Doctor," she said, a little breathlessly, and suddenly Midorima's senses heightened. "We just got a call from the ER - a middle aged man fell in his house and he's coming in with a fractured hip."

"That doesn't sound like anything really requiring the ER," Midorima said, relaxing ever so slightly.

"Well, he's panicking and he'd like to see a doctor. He's told us that nurses...well, verbatim, 'don't know shit' so he wanted a professional…" This man had certainly not earned his share of fans, if Midorima could read this nurse's face. Her franticness he had misinterpreted - it seemed she was more frustrated and seeking him so the mess would be out of her hands. "He ordered us to lay him out on a gurney and he's waiting for you."

"He seems like quite a character," Midorima huffed, pushing his glasses up his nose and heading over to the emergency room with the nurse in tow.

"Indeed," she agreed. "And this is knowing you as well, doctor."

[=]

The man in question, an aging yet still kicking businessman in a suit, saw him coming from the gurney, placed almost comically next to the emergency room door as if he had been forgotten - all the nurses had disappeared; Midorima was to have a talk with them about professionalism. But when the man opened his mouth, Midorima could almost understand. "I didn't ask for a medical intern, I asked for a certified doctor."

"Sir," Midorima said, with all politeness he could muster. The nurse who had followed him had retreated to a safe distance to watch. "I can assure you - it has been two years since I've graduated with my medical license and I am completely capable of treating you."

"Bah," the man huffed. "How could a young one like you really diagnose me? I could sue you out of practice, for your information."

"Yes," Midorima said, wishing to placate the man. The man was lying stock still on the gurney as if every bone of his body was broken except his mouth and his eyes were practically popping out of their sockets in misplaced rage. Midorima was almost fairly certain he could at least move his upper body but this was probably better than what the man would do in all command of his limbs. Nevertheless, it was almost so ridiculous it was hilarious and Midorima held in his laughter.

"I have a personal physician who sees me at my private residence, but as we were not at home when the incident happened, my son insisted…"

"Your son?"

"That would be me." A young man stood from where he had been sitting a few feet away in one of the chairs. "My father and I were coming back from a meeting when my father fell on the steps coming from the building."

"I tripped," the man corrected.

"Father, please, that's hardly any better." The man, maybe his own age, was surprisingly collected about the whole matter. The way he held himself was refined and elegant, living up to the way he commanded attention of the room with a handsome face and high cheekbones and fierce red hair. "My name is Akashi Seijuro and this is my father, Masahi."

"I see," Midorima said flatly, scrawling it on the file laying beside the gurney. No one had been able to gather the man's personal information, so great was his distress. Midorima wondered why Akashi had not stepped in for his father and supposed with how it went, he had probably not been able to get in a word edgewise. "We'll wheel you in for an x-ray, Akashi-san. Just stay still."

"I have an exhaustive medical history!" Masahi yelled as he was wheeled away. "This place doesn't have my medical records! I demand a phone call! Seijuro, tell them my current medication!" With that, he was wheeled behind closed doors and his voice drifted until Midorima could no longer hear him.

"My father fell down a flight of stairs," Akashi said, as Midorima recorded his patient's behavior. "We were leaving the building and he stepped too soon and toppled down the front of the building. He was willing to wait until we got home but he complained he was in too much pain to walk so I took him here. He worked himself into a frenzy in the car."

"I see. Did he bump his head in the fall?"

"No. He's always like that." That hadn't been the question, but it was a subtle reply to a thought Midorima did not voice. "He may have fractured his hip, but I don't think he has any other injuries. It was quite a fall."

"I see. Thank you. You may wait..."

"My father is taking cholesterol medication, sixty milligrams a day. He is also taking something for his heart, thirty milligrams every other day..."

"That won't be necessary," Midorima interrupted. "We will be performing a simple x-ray and I believe the man can inform us himself of his medication in the scenario that we must administer further medication." Akashi looked a little startled, and it was a look that Midorima recognized that suggested Akashi was not familiar with being contradicted. He almost felt sorry for him. "There's a waiting room one floor above," Midorima said as kindly as he could. "Get yourself some coffee or tea and we'll come tell you of your father's condition as soon as possible."

Akashi stared at him for a long moment. "Alright."

[=]

He found Akashi just as he directed in the waiting room. Akashi was the only one in the waiting room at four in the afternoon, sitting with his back to the television softly blaring some midnoon talk show, an empty white styrofoam cup in his hands. He was not doing anything, not checking his phone or glancing restlessly at the day-old newspaper on the table before him; he was just in static transit. "Your father will be fine," Midorima announced, breaking the silence, and Akashi glanced up at him. "We administered an x-ray, located the fracture, and set him along his way to his bed with some pain medication and something to help the swelling. It's an impressive fracture, but nothing he won't recover from with time and bedrest. He isn't dying, which is what he seems to be comparing his pain to be like."

"I don't care if my old man croaks," Akashi said, and Midorima wondered for a moment if he had begun speaking to someone completely different. "It would probably be best for us all. I'm sorry, you're probably not used to people saying things like that."

"It's uncommon," Midorima said by means of agreement, before taking a seat next to him. Was Akashi grieving? His eyes seemed to suggest no cloud in judgment. In fact, they appeared dull and uninterested.

"The sooner he goes, the sooner he can stop pretending to let me run the company," Akashi murmured, collapsing the cup between his hands as he brought them up underneath his chin. "What's the point of offering me the chance to use the skills he's taught me if I have no actual sway and he's the one controlling the pieces behind the scenes?" He looked at Midorima again, his red eyes scrutinizing. "I did not come all this way to be babied at my age."

"Fathers don't let go of their things so easily," Midorima said, remembering how his father had been so upset he was going so far away - a three hour drive! - to medical school and how he had cried when his younger sister went to America for university. He started at his impertinence and opened his mouth to apologize.

"Isn't that the truth," Akashi hummed. "How long do you think he'll be hospitalized for?"

"At his health, I suspect he will only need some internal fixation - he does not need a whole hip replacement, even if the fall was somewhat serious. He fell well. Still, I see his surgery taking place in one or two days, and probably would stay here for recovery and monitoring for at least a week after."

"Keep him here for a month or longer." Akashi was not looking at him. "That way you give him ample time to adequately get better and there is no chance he can blame the hospital having prematurely discharged him. He's got a very trigger happy suing hand. I would rather him complete his physical therapy here than at home, where he would undoubtedly complain."

"I see," Midorima said.

"He will surely demand to be sent to a better hospital, or at least one he's familiar with, for the surgery but I will have a talk with him about that. It's best he not move around that much with his injury." Midorima had a feeling it was less for his father's sake than it was for Akashi's sake. "I don't mean that his hospital isn't good," Akashi added, after a thought. "Pay no mind to my father. He tends to exaggerate."

"I will keep that in mind and tell my nurses the same."

Akashi tilted his head toward him, his hands clasped and against his cheek. "My apologies for your trouble. Surely you can forgive me for my selfish requests?" He gave a small smile, the type that looked practiced, the one he saved to get on someone's good side for them to agree with him on everything. Midorima swallowed and opted not to answer. Instead -

"Would you like me to get you some more coffee? I'd like you to look at some paperwork after you see your father, then you can go."

"No. I only can drink one cup of coffee a day or I get jittery at night. As it stands, this is my second cup for today so I'd better not." His laugh made Midorima twist his lip and turn away to lead Akashi to his father's bedside.

[=]

"My father called for me an hour before the surgery and I came thinking he was worried but he just wanted to check that I'd completed one of his business deals." Akashi was staring off at the surgery doors, where his father had been wheeled off only moments before. He had run into Midorima as he had come in, a little panicked, which had startled Midorima as the last time he had checked, Akashi Masahi had just been complaining for forty-five minutes about the dismal state of hospital food. "How pathetic. Why can't he just worry about his own health and leave his business to me?"

Midorima did not know what to say to that, so he didn't say anything.

"As it stands, I had fully intended to be present when he awoke but I figure that is a while away." Akashi stared at his watch irritably, before giving Midorima a watered-down version of the same look, as if it had been his fault. "Is there anything we need to discuss that we can do so now, as to pass the time? It just isn't convenient to leave and return constantly."

Midorima had nothing in mind that needed immediate discussion; after surgery options he had planned to discuss at least later or even the next day. He had rounds he supposed he could leave to one of the orderlies and he had an appointment in an hour. Still - Akashi's disgruntled face was boring into him so he had no choice but to lead the man to his office.

"You're very neat," Akashi commented, looking around the pristine office. Files were organized and ordered in three shiny file cabinets near the door; the bookshelves were no nonsense packed of medical tomes. He allowed three succulents at the window and had his desk organized into piles and short stacks. His medical diplomas were modestly displayed in the corner, out of sight to appear humble but right in sight at his desk to remind his patients that he was certainly capable. Akashi took a seat across from him at the desk, sinking into a cushioned chair. "It certainly appears efficient."

"I strive for efficiency," Midorima insisted, a little insulted at the almost casual jab. "I firmly believe in a timely and quality recovery from any ailment that brings you to the hospital."

"Of course," Akashi agreed, sitting back and bringing his leg over his knee to assume a rather regal, authoritative posture. Midorima thought that was ironic, seeing who was really in charge here so to speak. "I didn't mean to suggest anything else. I admire that quality in a doctor."

"Flattery will get you nowhere."

"It's true!" Akashi's laugh was something strange in his ears, and each time he heard it he felt like maybe he was beginning to memorize the sound. "I stand nothing to gain by flattering you. My family has more than enough to cover my father's hospital fees and we could even purchase this entire hospital if we so chose."

"Flattery may keep the nurses from strangling him in his bed," Midorima replied. Akashi laughed again, and it was different - not the distanced, polite laugh he'd given Midorima before, but a genuine, amused one.

"He really is that bad, isn't he?" Akashi mused. "At first, I tried not to think so, but I was fooling myself for the first eighteen years of my life. Sometimes you can't be afraid to acknowledge things that are right in front of you."

"You haven't told him such?"

"I wouldn't dare!" He was looking less and less professional and business, and Midorima wondered if it was always that easy to make Akashi Seijuro comfortable, or was he somehow able to do such a feat? The latter made him strangely proud of himself. "He's caused me much grief and several nervous breakdowns, but I like to think I'm better because of it."

"Breakdowns?"

Akashi had the sense to look embarrassed. "They happened in high school and in college, but it's nothing to worry about. I don't have them anymore." He looked through Midorima's desk, clearly unwilling to elaborate further. "They were dark times, and I really wasn't myself but...is that a hair dryer on your desk?"

Midorima turned to the bright pink hair dryer lying on top of his stack of finished paperwork. His sister had left it the last time she stayed over. "Indeed," Midorima sniffed, sensing judgment rising. "It is...my lucky item for the day."

"Sorry?"

Midorima pursed his lips together. The habit had already been well-established among the other doctors and nurses and they had long since stopped asking. He'd almost forgotten how uncomfortable it was explaining himself - not embarrassing enough to stop, though; one did not test fate like that. "Every morning, the Oha Asa program announces the lucky item for each astrological sign, and today, a hair dryer is Cancer's lucky item."

"Is it...your girlfriend's? You don't seem like the type of person to have a pink hair dryer."

"It's my sister's."

"I see," Akashi said, slowly. "I'm sorry, it's just so unusual to see a doctor, a science man, so involved in such things as superstition."

"Yes, well," Midorima huffed, already having laid out post-surgery pamphlets out before him and nothing to do with his hands but wrench them painfully, "there are such doctors in the world."

Akashi stared at him. "I really am sorry," he said, looking a little sheepish. "I really did not mean to insult you in any way. I also did not intend to be just as chatty as I was; I've just been cooped up in the office since eight looking over some lengthy legal print and - I guess I'm a little anxious about my father's surgery, despite what I say." He gave Midorima a twisted grimace. "I'm the one who is pathetic, aren't I?"

"It's perfectly reasonable to be nervous about surgery," Midorima assured him, though he had not fully forgiven Akashi for his callousness. "Your father will be fine."

Akashi spent forty minutes in his office with him, before Midorima had to go to his appointment and Akashi spent the rest of the time looking through the gift shop downstairs and doing business on his phone outside. When Masahi finally awoke, his son was next to him, looking a little exasperated.

"You certainly took your time to wake up, father."

"I've kept in good health all these years, Seijuro. This is nothing. Remember that; look after your health as I have done."

Akashi looked relatively more relaxed, though he had zipped himself back in his proper demeanor, by the time his father assured him he was quite alright and going nowhere and now he'd like to sleep. Surgery had taken enough out of him that he quietly allowed the nurses to prop a pillow under his neck and give him his medication for the night. Akashi was slipping on an olive peacoat when Midorima was suddenly and irrationally overwhelmed with a thought. Hadn't Akashi just insulted him earlier? "Have you had your coffee yet today?"

Akashi blinked. "Yes, I did. This morning."

"Just...making sure. If you get jittery after more than just one, you probably are more sensitive to caffeine than most and it would be wise to be thoughtful about how much coffee you have, and to perhaps lessen the amount each morning." He was rambling. He really ought to return to his rounds.

"Yes," Akashi agreed, a little baffled.

[=]

Masahi had one day of bedrest, to which he hummed incessantly to himself and scowled at people who dared look at him. On the second night after his surgery, after taking his medication and going to sleep for the night, he developed a mild case of pneumonia. Akashi had been contacted for this update and he had rushed over to the hospital at five in the morning. Midorima had also been summoned, as the staff had decided that Midorima had taken responsibility for the patient. After checking Masahi's vitals and administering a drip just to be on the safe side, he left the room to see Akashi dozing off against the wall, slumped over the bench just outside in the hallway.

He figured he ought to wake Akashi and tell him all was to be well - sleeping in that position was going to make the neck sore no doubt in the morning - but he remembered how Akashi had mentioned early mornings and long nights and decided against it. Akashi was one who needed his sleep. Midorima took the coat off from his lap and draped it around him, and after a long moment of internal debate, took a hesitant seat next to Akashi on the bench and allowed the man to lean against his shoulder. Akashi's breathing was slight and soft near his ear.

Akashi woke fifteen minutes later, blinking sleepily as Midorima read over Masahi's file for the thirtieth time. It took Akashi a moment to gather his surroundings, before he quickly straightened. "My apologies," he said quickly. "I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"It's still early. Your father will be okay. He's in stable condition and we think the bout of pneumonia should pass during the day. We've got staff to watch him. We've had older patients go through the same scenario and they've bounced back springier than ever afterwards." He ducked his head. "I suppose we owe you an apology. We should have been more careful with your father."

"I'd read somewhere that mortality drops if someone gets pneumonia after hip surgery," Akashi murmured. "But I suppose that would just be wishful thinking on my part. My father, unfortunately, is a tougher man than I give him credit for." He glanced in the room to see his father sleeping peacefully, his IV beeping rhythmically. Midorima cleared his throat.

"I don't...suppose you've had your coffee today yet?"

Akashi stared at him. "No, I haven't. I rushed over here straight from bed."

"The cafeteria on the top floor opens at six for the public. It's got a decent brew. If you're interested, we could...I mean, you could…"

Akashi understood just as quickly as Midorima had hoped. "That sounds like a wonderful idea. I'm exhausted." He stifled a yawn behind his hand and collected his belongings and Midorima did not think it felt exactly like victory.

[=]

"You _know_, Shin-chan," Takao, the male nurse who began working around the same time as Midorima and considered themselves bosom buddies for the very same reason despite Midorima's contrary thinking, chirped as they washed hands side by side after an annual physical, "it's considered illegal to sleep with a patient's kid. I mean, I guess it's not _illegal_ but you know, it's the whole morally ambiguous thing."

"I am not sleeping with any patient's child," Midorima scowled.

"Really? I heard from Miyaji - he's the guy who stocks the kitchens and refreshes the flowers at the gift store if you didn't know - that he saw you schmoozing around with that old guy's son a few days ago in the morning. In the early morning too, I might add. Doesn't that strike you as somewhat wrong?"

"I am not in any inappropriate relations with Akashi," Midorima insisted. "We are still doctor-patient, thank you for your gossip."

"Oh, wait, you said 'still'! I knew it, you horndog."

"Just a slip. Nevertheless, let me correct those rumors. I am merely his father's doctor."

"So you can swear that you've never thought of doing inappropriate things with him?"

"Of course not. Don't be vulgar, Takao. Why would you think such a thing?"

Takao shrugged, scattering water droplets from his fingertips. "I don't know. It seems so not-you so much that it would be cool if it was real. Miyaji said he'd never seen you smile so much in all the times he's seen you."

"What a liar. I smile all the time."

"Okay, now you're lying. I get it. You're in denial of your feelings. When are you seeing him again?"

"How should I know? He chooses when he comes to the hospital to see his father." He turned away, hoping to give Takao the message while taking the gauze out of his coat pocket to wrap his fingers. Takao did not get the message.

"You haven't exchanged contact numbers or emails or anything? Did you expect to get anywhere? How are you guys going to orchestrate dates or anything?"

"Hey; aren't you the one who said it was morally wrong to pursue such a thing?" Midorima was scowling now, deeply, but Takao did not seem to notice.

"Well, the old guy's not going to be your patient forever, is he?" Takao was giving him an awful leering grin. It was making him uncomfortable. He'd never thought of Akashi in any sort of compromising situation. He hadn't even really thought of Akashi at all, outside of a loose thought about brushing shoulders or helping Akashi with his coat, which he made a mental note of to do the next time, though - now he was being watched, he really ought not to. "Oh? Are you thinking about it?"

"Thinking about what?"

"Waking up in the same bed as him!"

"No! Go away!"

[=]

Masahi complained that the physical therapist was underestimating him by only allowing him to sit in chairs and perhaps take a step or two, but when he attempted to walk away when she wasn't looking, he almost toppled over. Midorima had to be called to talk some sense in him - somehow, despite their introductions, Masahi had grown to believe more of what Midorima said than the nurses, though that was not much to begin with - and he did so, sternly, as Akashi watched from a distance. Akashi, despite his business-oriented lifestyle, still spared an hour or so each day to visit his father; by appearances, he was a dedicated son. When Midorima finished his tirade and ordered Masahi to listen to his physical therapist, who offered to help him walk some down the hall, he turned to speak to Akashi and found to his utmost horror that Takao was lingering around and chatting with him.

"Don't you have duties to attend to?" Midorima rushed, bustling up to them. Akashi was unsuspecting, as expected; Takao only grinned at him.

"Hey, Shin-chan," Takao said.

"Shin-chan?" Akashi asked.

"Anyway," Takao interrupted, as Midorima bore angry holes into his skull with his eyes, magnified by his glasses, "I was just telling Akashi here that he really ought to exchange numbers with you, because then he can directly call you on your 'work' phone instead of having the hospital redirect him to your office phone on our landline. It would be more quick and efficient."

"Work phone?" Midorima demanded, before he realized what Takao was playing at. "No, I believe you're being called over at the pediatrics ward. You're so good with children, after all."

"I was just trying to help," Takao sulked, although he flounced away almost gleefully. When Midorima turned back, Akashi had taken his phone out.

"That isn't necessary," Midorima said quickly. He did not have a phone especially for work; only a pager. Giving his personal phone number to Akashi in this pretense seemed sneaky - and it wasn't like he really meant for Akashi to have his number in the first place, what use would it be? "Your father is in fine condition and the hospital could always call you in any instance."

"Still," Akashi insisted. "He had a point. Perhaps I'd like to talk to you about my father's condition or vise versa...I could contact you after hours in case of any concern."

"I'll…" His resolve was crumbling for unknown reasons. "I'll give you my number in case of emergencies." He made a mental note not to ask Akashi for his, and Akashi did not offer it.

"Did you give him your number?" Takao asked when they left for the night, grinning nastily.

"For professional reasons," Midorima said, clearing his throat. "If it interests you, I do not have his."

"Oh, you're playing that kind of game. I like it. You're sly, Shin-chan."

[=]

Masahi was able to walk a few, tottering steps with his hand firmly clasped on a bar when Akashi finally mailed him, a week and a half that Midorima certainly did not spend checking his phone before bed. Akashi's visits had become less frequent as of late, as his father was improving exponentially and thus began giving gruff, bossy orders again. He had also become someone who talked constantly about his son to Midorima when he checked up on him, which was no help because Midorima was now having trouble keeping Akashi off the mind after Takao's unhelpful and ultimately destructive (false) suggestion that Midorima was harboring less-than-innocent intentions toward Akashi Seijuro.

(It wasn't true, in any case. If he lusted after Akashi, surely he would have made excuses to have Akashi come see him, wouldn't he have?)

"My boy is hard at work," Masahi said, when Midorima was writing down his progress. "He's finalizing several contracts at once, as expected of my son. I was concerned about my hiatus at work, but I trust he will do be proud. One can't help but be concerned, though, as a father and a businessman much longer than Seijuro has been…true, he is already twenty-six and knows much of the world, but he hasn't had as much experience as I."

(It wasn't true, in any case. True, he had thought about the feel of Akashi's skin if he ever reached out and ran his fingers up his neck, but it was truly in the name of health, to check the color and texture for ailments, et cetera, et cetera.)

"I do worry about him, you know. He is so young but he's already working the same sort of hours as I do! But I'm torn; I cannot just tell him to relax because there is no such thing in the business world."

(It wasn't true, in any case. He'd only had had one, single moment of thinking of kissing Akashi during the entirety of the time they had known each other, and if he honestly was pursuing Akashi as Takao frustratingly seemed to insinuate, surely he would have imagined it more often, or something more?)

"Does your son have any medical ailments that might be worsened by his penchant to overwork and lack of sleep?" Midorima asked, purely friendly and for conversation.

(Now he was thinking about it, the way Akashi might wake up in his bed in the mornings, a night shirt hanging loosely off his frame, the way he might have a bit of messy bed hair, the way he'd yawn and cover his mouth, or maybe insist on a good morning kiss - and that was the second time, goddammit.)

"I don't think so…my son keeps surprisingly good care of himself. I suppose he does have chronic headaches, usually after long hours of reading or editing, but nothing he can't banish with some rest and an ibuprofen."

He got a mail after he'd finished putting his dinner dishes in the sink and was rolling up his sleeves to wash them. He flicked open the screen, expecting some ludicrous offer from Takao to go drinking, but instead received a polite message from an unknown number: Hello. This is Akashi. I'm not feeling very well, was wondering if you knew any natural cures for aches and pains?

Midorima did not bother thumbing back a response and directly called the number instead. "Where are you?" he asked on the third ring, from which Akashi had answered with surprise.

"In the office. Why?"

He barely was able to finish telling Akashi to stay put when he hung up and rummaged through his pantry for tea. But an office must have had tea. Headaches could be caused by hunger, Midorima noted. On his way to the Akashi Corporation - he had immediately consulted Google Maps on his way out of the door - he stopped by a local restaurant and ordered a bowl of tofu soup: nothing too harsh or offending to the tastebuds, nothing too heavy for such late hours in the night, but nothing too bland to be unappetizing. The doorman let him up after a brief show of identification and he was personally escorted to Akashi's office by a night security guard; the entire office was empty save for one flustered employee making copies.

"You came," Akashi said, now a little more surprised.

"I said I would," Midorima replied, holding up his spoils. No doubt Akashi would have ibuprofen at hand on his office, as his father suggested he would, and the half-empty cup of water on his desk proved that. "I thought perhaps you hadn't had anything to eat, so I bought something on my way here."

"I haven't eaten since one," Akashi agreed, and Midorima mentally ticked off nine hours. "Oh...this is my favorite. Did my father tell you?"

Masahi hadn't, but something compelled Midorima to say otherwise. Thus proving: if he really fancied Akashi, wouldn't he have readily admitted that it was mere coincidence but his fateful decision to buy tofu soup meant they were truly meant to be together? He watched Akashi drink the soup, eating the tofu first - it was interesting to note eating habits, as they usually denoted the kinds of diets one had; certainly he did not notice it because of any ulterior motives - and he must have been standing a little too transfixed because when Akashi finished, he looked at him simply and said, "Did you bring medicine?"

"No," Midorima said, forgetting for a second why he had come. "I figured that your aches may be due to posture especially if you've been hunched over a desk for hours."

"Oh," Akashi said.

"I'm not an expert in either acupuncture or massage, but I thought perhaps I could pinpoint any problematic muscles or joints and apply therapeutic pressure."

"Oh," Akashi said again. "Alright."

Midorima began with the peripherals (and honestly, if he really liked Akashi in the improper way Takao was always saying, wouldn't have gone directly to the more sensitive parts like the neck?). Akashi was left-handed, so he rubbed at his knuckles. Takao would have said something unnecessary, something about Midorima holding his hand or some nonsense like that, but it was purely in the name of medicine. If he had impure intentions, he would have felt awkward smoothing out the muscles in Akashi's arm and teasing the kinks out of his neck and shoulders, but instead he felt professional and very reasonable.

"Do you do this often?" Akashi asked, as Midorima traced circles with his thumbs between Akashi's shoulderblades. "Make house calls, I mean."

"Yes." That ought to make it less suspicious. Not that it was suspicious in any way. "As a doctor, you must be dedicated to your patient's health at all times." Akashi's neck was tense. "Do you have a headache?"

"Slightly, yes, but it's been feeling better since the ibuprofin."

"How much coffee did you have this morning?"

"I didn't have any."

That seemed unusual. Akashi struck him as a very methodical morning person, someone who would stick to schedule and routine and order a cup of black as he did in cafeteria weeks before. "Why not?"

"I...suppose I didn't have time to today. I had anticipated staying something to this late hour here."

When he was finished, Akashi was looking much more relaxed than before. As Midorima went to fetch his coat for the night, Akashi rummaged around in his wallet and pulled out a couple bills. "Surely a late night house call is worth its weight," he said, when Midorima stared at him incomprehensibly. "If you took every house call without compensation, you'd be worked to the bone."

"No," Midorima said. "I couldn't."

"Please. You've done enough."

This repeated for some time, until Midorima practically had to wrestle the money back into Akashi's wallet. Akashi looked troubled and Midorima quickly helped him into his coat and offered, "If you must offer compensation, do so by taking care of yourself. Your company needs you and your father needs you as well."

"You're very good to me," Akashi murmured.

They did not leave at the same time; Akashi insisted on locking up and checking up on some last minute details and Midorima reached the streets and checked his watch. He would be getting up in a few hours for his early morning shift and it had gotten much colder than when he had set off for Akashi. He shoved his hands deep into his coat pockets and fumbled out a small stack of bills that Akashi had undoubtedly put there when he had not looked. He had the right mind to storm back upstairs and give it back with an offended huff, but supposed that if Akashi had resorted to such underhanded methods, he ought to avert his eyes to be polite. He understood the necessity of a man's pride.

[=]

Masahi, who did not seem like a man bothered by frivolous things like fashion, was strangely particular about his choice in walking-aid. A walker was definitely out of the question ("I am not an intrepid old man.") and crutches were also rejected ("I am not a young sport who foolished injured himself playing team sports."). His cane had to be very specific, and none of the offered hospital canes were up to his taste. "I'll be using this for the next few weeks, or even months. These metallic, plastic things would not look good against my suit and would ruin my image."

"Father," Akashi sighed, exasperatedly.

In the end, Akashi brought him a catalogue that included an extensive lineup of expensive canes. Midorima watched as Masahi ordered an elaborately carved mahogany cane with a gold trim on the handle. He couldn't fathom why anyone would spend so much money on such a thing, but considering Masahi, he could guess. Masahi seemed in much better spirits after his purchase and actively began a conversation of expensive woods to the nurses as Akashi pulled him aside and asked to talk to him in private.

"Is there anything you're concerned about?" Midorima asked, after he'd shut his office door and offered Akashi a seat.

"Yes, doctor," Akashi said. "I've developed feelings for you, and I'm fairly certain you also have feelings for me too."

"Huh?" Midorima eloquently offered.

"I had my concerns about you at first, as did my father, but you proved yourself to be more than just capable, and your efforts to go beyond the basics didn't seem particularly motivated by financial gain. In fact you were willing to be frank to my father and to me. No one's really treated me like that before; even our family doctor keeps a distance and most people tend to treat me delicately because of my family."

"Well," Midorima began.

"I heard from that one orderly that you never make house calls, and you never did."

Midorima closed his mouth. He was going to kill Takao later, in a slow and painful way.

"And when I thought about it, you've done many things for me outside the realm of my father and his condition. And frankly," Akashi said, hesitating for a moment, "I haven't had a cup of coffee in weeks because I thought you'd ask me to get one with you again."

Oh.

"So," Akashi said, and he was fidgeting in his chair, squirming in a sort of way that Midorima found both terrifying and exhilarating at the thought that he was the very cause, "how would you prescribe?"

"Um," Midorima said, and coughed to cover up his moment of speechlessness. "Such...symptoms are best diagnosed by observation for an extended period of time, and uh, could I see you again next Tuesday?"

[=]

The following Tuesday, Masahi was finally released from the hospital, after a month and two weeks of his entrance. He was able to walk unaided, though with a cane, to the elevator, where he rambled on to his two guards about if they were single and possibly looking for a partner, there were many capable nurses in the hospital. The nurses had begrudgingly allowed themselves to warm up slightly to him, though every eye was dry when he finally bid them farewell. It was frankly the least of Midorima's concerns. Akashi had just come into his office. "My father's leaving today."

"I am aware," Midorima said, collecting all the materials to give to Akashi pertaining to home life and what to do after a hip surgery and what not to do and how to complete his physical therapy and rehabilitation. He crossed the room and Akashi met him halfway and Midorima pressed the stack into his hands. "Here are all the things you'll need to know about your father's further recovery."

"Oh. Thank you."

"After he leaves, your father is no longer my patient, not officially."

"Yes."

"Have you kept track of what we spoke about last time?"

"Nothing has changed."

"Is that so." Against his better judgment, he brought a hand up to Akashi's neck, warm against his palm. His jaw was set against his thumb and Akashi pressed his lips together, thin and a little anxious. "I may give you something for it that may make it better - or it might make it worse."

"I'll take my chances," Akashi said, and Midorima kissed him, right there in his office with his eyes closed, detailed fliers about hip surgeries between them. He felt Akashi sigh into his mouth and tilt his head every so slightly. Akashi's hand was slight on his shoulder, and as it snaked around his neck, it pulled him down and Akashi was kissing back, a little restrained and shy. "It got worse," he murmured against Midorima's lips, the papers in his hands barely being held in place and fluttering to the ground. "Now you've got to take responsibility."

"Get dinner with me tonight," Midorima offered. "I know a place with great after-dinner coffee."

"Wonderful." Akashi's smile was fighting at the corners of his mouth, and he bent down to compose himself and pick up the fallen papers. Midorima allowed him a moment to breathe a sigh of relief and Takao burst into the office and retreated hastily and the sight of Akashi on his knees, shrieking about his virgin eyes and hospital policy.

[=]

Note: A bit of a spiritual prequel to b-side. Wow this took me a while.


End file.
